


Before the Curtain Fell

by SeraphJewel



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphJewel/pseuds/SeraphJewel
Summary: A letter comes to Jacob from Maxwell Roth, leader of the Blighters. That one simple letter leads Jacob down a path he never expected. This is sort of a prequel to Denouement, showing my take on the events leading up to that final moment.
Relationships: Jacob Frye/Maxwell Roth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	1. A Little Fun

Jacob was as surprised as anyone when a letter arrived from the leader of the Blighters. For the briefest moment, he thought it would be some formal declaration of war between the two gangs. He and Evie had been taking out gang leaders all across London, so one involving the head Blighter was the next logical step.

The letter's actual contents were not what he expected at all. There was no denying he was intrigued, but of course when Evie asked if he would accept, he chuckled and assured her _of course not_. Jacob tucked the letter away when she wasn't looking and pulled it out again once he was away from her scrutiny.

He studied the lines more closely to be absolutely sure that the letter was just for _him_. After all, he and Evie controlled the Rooks together. But there was no mention of his older sister at all. He alone had caught Maxwell Roth's attention. Jacob's intrigue grew, and he decided that he _would_ accept.

Jacob spent very little time in the theater. He knew about costumes and plays, but the mechanics of it were lost on him. He didn't know the words for some of the objects he saw as he walked backstage to meet Roth. Jacob studied the fliers on the walls, the rack of costumes, the ropes and heavy bags that hung from the rafters. He wondered what sort of play was being put on at the moment. And if the table on the stage was already there or if Roth had brought it out just for this meeting.

He hardly knew the man and yet Jacob sensed that either option was just as likely.

The moment Roth turned to greet him, Jacob found himself fascinated by the man. Everything from the way he moved to his speech told of barely contained energy. The scar on his face only drew the eye to him more. Jacob didn't hesitate in partaking of the alcohol offered to him. He was already beginning to understand Roth's nature, and no man who went through all this to get Jacob's attention would stoop to poison.

The more Roth talked, the more Jacob was drawn in. Still, he had to ask: “What do _you_ get out of all this?”

“The chance to have a little fun with the bravest man in London.”

There was an earnest sincerity to those words that left Jacob momentarily speechless. His eyes dropped and he let out a little breath. He'd been called many things in his life, most of them not very flattering, but brave was a new one. It made his heart flutter in pleasure. And for Maxwell Roth of all people to say it... Jacob lifted his eyes again, certain he made the right choice in coming here.

Roth was practically giddy when Jacob agreed to help him. His energy was infectious, bleeding into Jacob. They spoke of the plan as Jacob drove the carriage. It was a pleasant surprise hearing Roth wanted to blow something up. _I like the way he thinks._ The plan suited him so well it was a delight running around the station, not caring if he alerted Blighters with each detonation. It was chaotic and wild and he loved every second of it.

Yes, there was really no other word to describe this other than _fun_.

The adrenaline was still pumping through him when he met back up with Roth. The man flashed Jacob a devil-may-care grin, and his already racing heart jumped a little faster. “Come see me again,” Roth invited, waving as the train pulled away with him and his Blighters.

Jacob watched from the platform feeling... almost disappointed, and confused by the disappointment. It was almost like he had expected to ride off with Roth on the train. Or at the very least been invited.

Later that day a carriage pulled up to him. It was driven by that odd servant who had guarded the back entrance to Roth's theater. Jacob's mood immediately picked up again. The servant hopped over to open the carriage door, but Roth did not step out. Instead, the servant reached in and produced a box.

“Mister Roth asked for this to be delivered to you, with his regards.” The servant didn't wait for a response before driving off.

Curious, Jacob opened the box. Inside was a cape similar to the style Evie liked to wear. It came with a note.

_My friend, forgive me for leaving you so abruptly. I enjoyed our outing together and look forward to seeing you again. I hope you do not keep me waiting long._

_I found this among the cargo on the train and thought to pass it on to you. Though it is my hope you enjoyed yourself without compensation, you are free to consider any payment from selling this item your fee in assisting me._

_M. Roth_

Jacob wet his lips and tucked the note away. He took his time in getting back to the train hideout. Evie glanced up from her work when he hopped in the compartment.

“Where've you been?”

“I've been buying you a gift, dear sister.” Jacob produced the box. Evie squinted at him, but took the box anyway. Her eyes went wide when she saw the cape. She let it slide out of the box, her fingers caressing the material.

“It's lovely. What's the occasion?”

“Just consider it compensation for putting up with me.”

Evie let out a laugh as she fastened the cape around her. “I suppose it's a start.”


	2. Magnificent

The matches always began with one or two fighters. As it wore on, more would climb in hoping to take him down. Jacob threw swift punches at the opponent in front of him, ducking just in time to avoid a blow from a man coming up behind him. A third was hovering with his fists up waiting for an opening. Jacob didn't give him a chance-- he broke through the man's guard, his fist cracking across the jaw and his foot slamming into a kneecap.

The crowd let out a cheer hearing the bone crack.

Jacob turned his attention back to the first man and grabbed his arm to stop another punch. He twisted until he heard another crack, then kicked the man into another opponent. By now a fourth had entered the fray. Jacob ducked under the swing, using the man's momentum against him. He sensed the one he capped in the knee was about to recover and quickly grabbed him by the back of the neck, using all his strength to push the man to the ground.

He was rewarded with another sickening crunch of cartilage and bone.

“And that's round five, folks!” Topping announced. Some of his men were helping drag the bodies out of the ring. “What say you, Jacob? Want to keep going? The full reward is at seven rounds.”

Jacob spat out a mouthful of blood. His muscles were starting to ache and his body tiring from the fights. He managed to keep up with all his opponents on this round, but the following two would add more and more. Jacob massaged his bruising knuckles.

“I'll keep going,” he decided.

Two rounds later he was declared the champion. His face throbbed from the hits he hadn't managed to avoid but nothing had been broken. Topping was collecting the final bets, counting out Jacob's share. Jacob listened to the few lingering bettors while he waited.

“Did you see him knock out two fighters at once?”

“That was a thing of beauty. And the way he popped that bloke's shoulder right out of the socket!”

“Reminded me of watching Roth fight.”

The name caught Jacob's attention. He twisted his head in the direction of the speakers, but their conversation had moved on. Topping finally approached with Jacob's earnings in hand.

“Topping, did Maxwell Roth ever fight in these?”

The man was taken aback by the question. He spared it a few moments of thought before shrugging his shoulders. “So I heard. That was before my time. They say he won every match he was in... a bit like you, come to think of it. Must be how he got to be leader of the Blighters.”

“But you said it was before your time,” Jacob persisted. “Why do you suppose he stopped?”

“Haven't the faintest. Maybe he found a different stage that suited him better.”

Jacob hid his smile as an image of the Alhambra Music Hall formed in his mind. Yes, the place absolutely suited Roth. Still, it wasn't too difficult to imagine Roth in this arena. If the man was so energized and active now, what sort of force was he at a younger age?

 _Come see me again._ It was such an open invitation. Could he really just drop by without any warning? _Why not, Jacob? Why not?_

The music hall was the only place he knew of to go. Just as before, Roth's odd servant was at the back entrance. This time he asked no questions; he simply stepped aside so Jacob could go in. Jacob supposed the man was used to people coming in uninvited to see Roth.

The stage looked more or less the same-- with the notable absence of a table. So Roth _had_ pulled it out just for their meeting. Only there was no Roth waiting for him this time, just stage hands at their work and sparing him little more than an idle glance. Jacob grabbed one of them by the elbow as they passed him by.

“Excuse me, but is Mr. Roth here?”

“Likely in his office, sir.” The stage hand proceeded to give him directions. He thanked them and headed on his way.

There was no denying the place was impressive. It was run down and abandoned when Roth first got his hands on the property, but one wouldn't know it by looking at it now. The carpets, the chandeliers, the audience seating, all of it was very fancy. Jacob took his time walking the halls. It felt like he was gaining more insight into Roth simply by noting how the man furnished this music hall. At the same time it left Jacob wanting to know more.

He stood at Roth's door and knocked. The man's rough voice responded with “Come in”. Jacob did, and saw Roth at his desk studying some documents. The man turned his head and his face lit up.

“Jacob! What a delight to see you, my friend!” Roth rose from his chair and clasped the younger man on the shoulders. Jacob matched the smile. “I'm afraid I don't have new amusements for you just yet,” Roth sighed, letting his hands drop. “But don't worry, I'm coming up with a plan.”

“I'm not really here for that,” Jacob assured him. Roth's eyes grew brighter again, and Jacob's heart did a funny stutter in his chest. 

“Please, sit.” Roth pulled out a chair for him. “It strikes me we didn't properly celebrate the success of our first outing. What say we crack open a bottle of champagne?”

Jacob agreed without hesitation. Grinning, Roth guided him out of the room and down to a cellar where he kept rows of champagne and wine. He explained to Jacob that these were for his patrons at the music hall, which only delighted Jacob more. Roth picked out a bottle and led Jacob off again to another part of the theater. This time they stopped in a seating area where the patrons would mingle during intermission. It was like Roth was giving Jacob a personalized tour.

With the place empty, the two men could have chosen any of the seats in the room. Instead they relaxed on the same couch as Roth uncorked the bottle and poured them both glasses.

“To the fall of Starrick,” Roth toasted.

“I'll drink to that.” They tapped their glasses together and took a generous drink. The taste was more bubbly and light than Jacob was used to, but he liked it enough. Roth was quick to refill their glasses once they were drained. “I'm actually here because I heard you once dominated the underground fight clubs,” Jacob confessed.

“Did you?” Roth finished off his glass, flashing Jacob a devilish smile. “You heard right. But in time I found my true passion here.” He leaned forward a little. “I heard you're quite the force in the arena these days.”

“You heard right,” Jacob assured him, mimicking Roth's stance. He could feel something in the air between them, an energy he couldn't fully explain. Roth met his gaze and lifted his glass for another swallow.

“I should like to watch you fight. I imagine you are magnificent.”

There was that weird flutter of his heart again. The intensity of Roth's stare sent a shock of heat down Jacob's spine.

“All right,” Jacob agreed. The energy between them seemed to grow stronger. “If I can watch you perform. I imagine you're magnificent, too.”

It was hard to tell in the light, but he thought he saw Roth blush. The man turned his face away before Jacob could be sure. Roth topped both of their glasses, lifting his in another toast.

“You have a deal.” Their glasses clinked together and they swallowed down the bubbly liquid in unison.

They were nearly finished with the bottle now. Roth was performing a monologue from some play Jacob never heard of. He was breathless watching the man take command of the space, his every word and gesture full of conviction. He was still Roth and yet he also transformed into this other character. His tone of voice and movements had changed to match the dialogue. Magnificent hardly felt like a strong enough word to describe it.

Roth finished with a flourishing bow. Jacob rose to his feet to applaud, earning him a delighted grin from the thespian. Jacob picked up the champagne bottle and drank straight from it.

“My turn.”

Roth took the bottle from him to finish off the last drops. “Lead on.”


	3. The Devil's Handshake

“Tell me something, Jacob: are you a fan of chess?”

The question caught him by surprise. He was resting from his recent bout with Roth sitting across from him. Roth was making a habit of attending any fight club where Jacob was featured, and Jacob found he got a little thrill whenever he caught the older man's face in the audience.

“Chess?” He flexed his fingers, shifting the ice bag to his other hand.

“Your gang, dear boy,” Roth elaborated. “I assumed the name came from your love of chess.”

Jacob let out a snort and rolled his eyes. “I named us after the birds.”

“Ah. Like your charming tattoo.” Roth lifted a finger, tracing the inked lines. Jacob froze with his breath catching in his throat. The touch was gentle like a caress; it made his heart race. “I own a crow,” Roth mentioned. “Since you are so fond of the animal, you should come by to see it.”

Jacob didn't know how to respond. Roth drew his hand away, leaving Jacob strangely missing the contact. Eventually he promised he would come by the music hall later. Roth grinned and rushed off to prepare for his guest. Jacob watched him go with a smile.

As promised, Roth had his crow out for Jacob. Jacob was a little less enthusiastic than Roth probably expected, but the other man didn't seem to notice or care. He was more focused on their next plan. So was Jacob, truth be told. He was pleased that Roth would be coming along for the fun.

Roth climbed onto the carriage first with space for Jacob to take the reins. Jacob decided to take this opportunity to ask Roth a bit about himself. He was draw in again listening to the man's thoughts and passion for art. Jacob almost felt sorry for the woman he was about to kidnap... but not really. He was about to hop out when he was stopped by Roth's hand on his thigh. Jacob paused and glanced back.

“Be careful, my dear.”

“You just be ready with the carriage.” He slipped away, his thigh retaining some of the warmth from Roth's touch.

He returned with his quarry, shoving her inside and hopping back in to their next destination. Roth greeted him with a grin and a pat on the leg. Jacob's heart skipped a beat. He focused on the road ahead, diverting the conversation to Roth's music hall. The more Jacob learned about this man the more he wanted to know. And talking to him was remarkably easy, so much more than it probably should have been when dealing with a rival gang leader.

Once again when he stopped to fetch their second victim, Roth squeezed his thigh and bade him be careful. Did Roth lean a little closer to him this time or was he imagining it?

Jacob next brought up Roth's servant. _He has other talents._ Something about those words made Jacob almost angry. Luckily navigating through Scotland Yard provided enough distraction for him. Before he left, Roth once again squeezed his thigh. Jacob couldn't make sense of these gestures or how they were making him feel.

He watched as all three of Starrick's people were loaded onto a boat. “Come by the Alhambra,” Roth invited him. “I have more amusements planned for us.” Jacob stood dumbstruck as Roth once again left him behind.

 _Oh, I most certainly will come by,_ he thought bitterly. Jacob stalked off to where they left the carriage, climbing in to drive straight to the music hall. He didn't care that Roth likely wouldn't be there for hours; he would wait all bloody day if he had to. Jacob plopped himself in a chair on the stage where he and Roth conducted their last two meetings. Lewis provided him with food and drink but no conversation. Even seeing the man made Jacob a little angry.

So Lewis was talented, was he? What sort of talents did he have? Did Roth ever leave _Lewis_ stranded somewhere? And why the hell did Jacob care so much?

“Jacob?”

He was on his feet and getting into Roth's space before the other could form another word. “I suppose it amused you to leave me there on the docks.”

Roth was actually left speechless, which Jacob suspected was so rare it surprised the thespian. Roth finally recovered with a smile. “Forgive me, my dear. I promise that I will include you much more in my next plan.”

“Well.... good.” Jacob was still annoyed, but at himself now for flying off like that. Roth's hand rested on his shoulder, drawing Jacob's eyes to the other man's face.

“What if I made it up to you with a drink? You can choose the bottle.”

Jacob thought they would use the sitting room again, but this time Roth led him to his personal quarters. Jacob hadn't suspected Roth to actually live in the music hall, but then again he and Evie lived in their train headquarters. The space allowed for even more insight into the man: Jacob saw a collection of books and plays on the shelves, playing cards, framed pictures of theaters and playbills, and various items that Roth must have kept from his days in the circus... if those stories were to be believed.

“You'll be pleased to know that I disposed of those three,” Roth told him as he poured the wine. Jacob didn't know much about vintage but the one he picked had drawn an appreciative noise from Roth, so it was probably a good one. “Perhaps it was selfish of me, but I wanted to take care of that bit myself. As I said, can't let you get all the glory.”

“Fair enough. I suppose it's the Assassin in me wanting to see a job all the way through.”

“Speaking of which...” Roth got to his feet, temporarily leaving the room. “I've been working on something that might be of interest to you.” He held out a piece of parchment, which Jacob took with great interest.

When he unfolded it, he saw a drawing of a hidden blade gauntlet. He studied it for a few moments before turning his attention back on Roth.

“Did you say _you_ worked on this?”

“Indeed. That clever blade of yours fascinated me and I wanted to try my hand at its design.” Roth patted Jacob's gauntlet. “I like to think I made some improvements, but of course you'll have to try it for yourself.” His fingers moved down until they touched Jacob's hand. Jacob felt the strange energy between them spike up again and he thought nothing of Roth's fingers interlocking with his own.

“Do you... think it wise to arm your rival with a better weapon?” Jacob's knee bumped up against Roth's; he hadn't realized he was scooting closer. 

“On the contrary, my dear.” Roth flashed Jacob a grin almost as sharp as the blade so close to his hand. “I find it exhilarating.” His hand was on Jacob's thigh again, its heat spreading through Jacob's whole body. Roth squeezed the muscle, then took the gauntlet schematics and neatly tucked them in Jacob's breast pocket. “Promise me you'll try out my design.”

“I will, Roth,” Jacob agreed.

“My dear.” Roth's smile changed to something softer. Jacob didn't miss how the man's hand was still on his chest. “I would like for you to call me Maxwell.”

Jacob wet his lips. With that hand on his chest, he knew Roth must be able to feel Jacob's racing heart. This energy and heat between them was building up to something. Jacob wasn't sure what, but he wanted to find out.

“That's a bit of a mouthful. What if I just called you 'Max'?”

Jacob felt the other man squeeze his hand just tight enough to feel the pressure. “You would be the first.” Jacob was surprised by how much that pleased him. Max gave his hand another squeeze before releasing his grip.

"I've kept you here too long, my dear. You should be off." Truthfully, Jacob hardly noticed time passing by, but he was reluctant to say so out loud. However, he found he was more reluctant to linger when Max was encouraging him to leave. Jacob rose to his feet and headed for the door. "Jacob." He turned, perhaps a bit too eagerly. "Come back to me soon."

Jacob didn't miss the different phrasing. "Of course, Max." Yes, he liked how the familiar name felt on his tongue, and Max's face showed the other man felt the same. "After all," Jacob added, activating his hidden blade. "I have to tell you how your design worked out."

"I shall look forward to it," Max cackled in delight. Jacob couldn't pinpoint why, but something about their exchange bothered him. Like he wanted more from Max. He turned away and walked out before the feeling could really sink in.

At least he was the one leaving first this time.


	4. Dangerous

Jacob crouched on the roof's ledge, his arms resting on his legs, surveying the streets below. Things were much calmer now thanks to the Rooks' growing influence over the boroughs. It was looking to be a quiet night but Jacob wasn't ready to turn in just yet.

He concentrated and his vision changed. Most of the people on the street gave off no special light, but around the corner he caught the blue of bobbies patrolling. Jacob continued to scan until... there! A bright flash of red! So far the person wasn't doing anything out of the ordinary, but Jacob's sight wouldn't have alerted him if this person was harmless.

It didn't take long: the man grabbed someone and started threatening them with a knife. Jacob pushed off from his perch, unsheathing his blade as he fell. His feet hit the criminal first, forcing the man to the ground. In the next movement Jacob was sliding his blade through the man's neck.

“Thank you!” the citizen gasped. “You saved me.”

“Glad I could help.” Jacob retracted the blade and got to his feet. He twisted his arm to get a good look at the gauntlet he wore. It turned out Max really knew what he was doing in designing this. Jacob felt a mix of admiration and fondness.

Aleck was intrigued when Jacob brought him the schematics for the new gauntlet. Jacob gave the man a version of the truth: he received the schematics as thanks for his work on a job. He and Evie were always receiving gifts from their associates-- Evie had just procured a new cane sword from Topping after winning in the fight clubs. Aleck was keen enough on using the schematics to not ask more questions.

“This will give you a bit more power than your last gauntlet,” Aleck told him when presenting the final product.

“You followed the schematics?” Jacob put it on, turning his arm in different angles to get a good look.

“Yes. They were quite something.”

The design was more subtle than some of the other gauntlets Aleck crafted for them. It would hardly be noticeable on Jacob's arm. Yet there was a certain style to it as well, and of course, deadly. Stylish and deadly, much like its designer.

Now Jacob tested it and found it to work just as well as the others. A bit more powerful, as Aleck promised, which spoke of Max's attention to detail. _Come back to me soon._ Those words were still fresh in his memory. Yes, he wanted to go back, and he had used this test of the gauntlet as an excuse to do so.

But as much as Jacob wanted to see Max again, a part of him was reluctant. Whenever he was near Max, Jacob felt caught in some strange power he didn't fully understand, a force that drew him in but ultimately left him feeling confused and wanting more. Part of it had to be that most of their time was spent on Max's turf at the Alhambra. Maybe if they met on more neutral ground, things would feel more even.

Jacob thought of them riding in the carriage as he captured Starrick's people. Max had been honestly concerned for him, warning him to be careful every time and looking pleased when Jacob returned unharmed. Max was just as much affected by whatever energy was between them then.

Decision made, Jacob scribbled a note and headed to the Alhambra. Lewis was there as always ready to admit him. “Could you please give this to Mr. Roth?” Jacob requested, handing over the note. The man agreed with a nod and slipped away to do just that.

Jacob figured he wouldn't have much of a head start, so he took an unmanned hansom and drove to the meeting spot. He chose St. James Park, the most neutral spot he could think of that would still be close enough to Max's territory in the Strand. It didn't even occur to him that Max might be asleep at this hour. Certainly it was late, but this was when gangs ruled the streets.

He took a stroll while he waited. Jacob was given enough time to walk a few meters before another hansom pulled up behind the one he used. Jacob's heart floated noting that Max had driven it himself. The man hopped off and approached him with a smile.

“I hope I didn't keep you waiting long, my dear.”

“Not at all.”

“Why the change of venue?” Max asked.

“I thought the fresh air might do you good,” Jacob teased, leading the other deeper into the park. “You're always holed up in your music hall.” The comment made Max smile, the warmth of the gesture spreading to Jacob. This was exactly what he hoped for in inviting Max here.

Jacob felt bold. He lifted his hand and placed it on the small of Max's back. He had his hand in a similar position before when kidnapping people, but this was different. There was no threat of violence in the gesture and Max's stare held heat without menace. Jacob found himself drawing closer. He could feel the build between them again. Maybe here, away from Max's Blighters, Jacob would find out where it led.

“The fresh air seemed to do _you_ good,” Max observed. His voice sounded rougher; whatever was happening definitely affected him.

“I...” Jacob wet his lips. “I tried out your design.” 

“And?” Max stepped closer, his hand now on Jacob's back.

They were _so close_ to each other. Jacob's heart hammered against his chest like it was trying to get out. He wished he could tell if Max was experiencing this the same way, but the man was too good an actor.

“And,” Jacob finally managed, “I thought you would like to see for yourself.” He instantly hated himself for taking the easy way out. Max merely smiled, brushing his hand delicately up and down Jacob's spine.

“Show me.”

So that was how Jacob found himself on another rooftop, this time with Max by his side. Westminster was still controlled by the Blighters, so Jacob had a quicker time of picking out someone to meet the end of his blade. He climbed back up once the deed was done; Max greeted him with a look that made Jacob's face flush hot.

“Masterful,” Max praised. “Such power and grace. I didn't expect to be treated to amusements tonight.”

“Can't let you have all the glory,” Jacob retorted. “Though it _was_ your design.” He held out his gauntlet for Max to see. The man took it and Jacob swore he could feel Max's touch even through the metal. Eventually Max finished his perusal and turned his attention back to Jacob.

“You are a dangerous man, Jacob.”

“So are you,” Jacob returned. He caught Max's hand, lacing their fingers together. “Very dangerous.” He knew they weren't talking about being gang leaders or their deadly skills.

They stood like that, hand-in-hand, for a few quiet moments. Jacob was the one to release the grip. They climbed down from the roof and made their way back to the hansoms. Something had shifted between them to make the energy even stronger. Jacob didn't even need to look at Max to feel it. Max paused by his hansom, turning to face Jacob.

“Darling, you are still the bravest man in London.” When Jacob didn't respond, Max let out a sigh and climbed onto the hansom. With a flick of his wrists the horse moved and he rode off into the night.

Max told him that before. Why did it feel like the man was saying something different now?


	5. Game Over

He still couldn't get Max's words out of his head. What had the man meant, Jacob was still the bravest man in London? There was certainly more to it. Jacob puzzled over it but couldn't find an answer. It was almost like Max was asking something of him, or urging Jacob to do something. The only thing he was sure of was that it had nothing to do with their activities against Starrick.

At least in the fight clubs, Jacob could take his mind off that and focus on the foe in front of him. There all he needed to know was when to duck, where to punch, and how far to twist to crack a bone. On habit his eyes scanned the crowd while he waited for the bodies to be dragged out for the next round. He found what he was looking for easily enough and acknowledged Max's presence with a nod. They would talk once Jacob was finished.

Jacob accepted the bag of ice Max handed him. “Spare me whatever vague words you're about to give.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well... it's become a pattern, hasn't it? You say or do something mysterious, then bugger off leaving me to wonder what the hell it was all about. So just keep it to yourself this time, Max.”

Max stared at him for a long moment. “Would you prefer I leave?”

“No.” Jacob focused on the ice cooling his knuckles. “I would prefer knowing what it is you want from me.”

“My dear, I should think that was obvious.” There was a softness to Max's tone that drew Jacob's eyes to his face. He'd seen that face light up in excitement and laughter; he'd seen those lips flash sharp smiles and mischievous smirks. Jacob never saw Max look like this before, like he was longing for something.

Without thinking, Jacob reached for the man's hand. His knuckles still throbbed from the fight but he barely felt it as their fingers interlocked. Jacob found himself leaning in closer.

“Come meet me on the bridge between the Strand and Southwark,” Max instructed. He released the grip and slipped away.

Jacob sat dazed for a few moments before realizing that Max just did it to him again. He spared the incident a moment of irritation before playing back Max's parting words. The Thames was _Jacob's_ territory. So far they met in Max's territory or a neutral place like the park, but now Max was willfully separating from the safety of all that.

It was progress.

Max gave no specific time on when Jacob should meet him, but the Assassin was too curious to wait. He cleaned up and dressed, calling a hansom to take him to the bridge. He found Max waiting for him at the very center, his eyes out toward the water. Jacob hopped out of the hansom and moved to join the older man.

“Some day it'll be me who leaves _you_ standing like an idiot.” The words came out much less annoyed than he wanted, and Max actually chuckled.

“Perhaps you will.” Jacob smiled, nudging their shoulders together. “There is a reason I consider you the bravest man in London,” Max told him. “For all of my talk and ideas, I do not have your bravery, Jacob. I hated being under Starrick's control, but did nothing about it until you came along.”

“What are you saying, Max? You need me to be brave for you?”

“Yes.”

Jacob slid his hand over until it rested on top of Max's. “Then that's what I'll do.” Their eyes met and once again Jacob saw that longing expression on the older man's face. They stood like that, watching each other, each waiting for the other to do something.

“I have something for you,” Max mentioned. “I thought to give this later, but now is a good time.” He fumbled around one-handed into his pocket. He pulled out a wrapped parcel, which Jacob took. Inside was a pair of copper knuckles.

Much like the hidden blade design Max gave him before, these knuckles were simple. Jacob slid them on his fingers and found they fit snug but not uncomfortably. He turned his hands over and noticed the letters etched into each knuckle. Slowly his eyes traveled to Max's face.

“Why did you give me these?”

“Why not?” So once again, no real answer. Jacob wasn't sure he was ready for one; he was still sorting through his own feelings. Max clasped a hand on his shoulder, jostling Jacob out of his thoughts. “I will see you at the Alhambra.”

Jacob didn't answer, but it didn't matter: Max was already calling a hansom and driving off. Leaving Jacob confused and wondering as always. Jacob stared at the knuckles again. He had no idea what to do with that word or how it made him feel in relation to Maxwell Roth.

Max needed Jacob to be brave for him. He could do that-- he _would_ do that, after the next strike Max had planned.

Only that was when everything went wrong.

It started off like their other adventures, Max so excited he didn't give Jacob time to walk through the door. The two of them scaled the building across from their target. Max noted Jacob wearing the knuckles and flashed a smile of pleasure. Jacob turned to go but Max caught him by the lapels of his coat. Jacob's breath caught as Max's hands slid under the coat and down his sides. The man adjusted Jacob's belt then moved his hands up to brush the shoulders.

“Darling, that old coat is so worn and thin,” Max chided him gently. “Shouldn't an Assassin have more care with his attire?”

“You're complaining about what I wear?” Jacob asked.

“Never.” Max gave him a little shove. “Now go on. Let's do this together.”

Jacob was a bit giddy as he set the explosives. He hurried back to Max, eager to see the place blown apart. But then he saw children headed toward the factory and his mood turned to cold horror. He and Evie had been freeing children laborers all over London; he hadn't realized this was one of the places. It didn't matter to Max.

 _No matter the cost._ That was what he said on their way here, yet Jacob never dreamed the man would go this far.

“No!” Jacob screamed, leaping down from his perch and gutting the nearest Blighter with his kukri. He glared up at Max, a mixture of anger, hurt, and disbelief warring in him. “We're not playing games anymore, Roth!”

He used the surname on purpose, knowing it would send a clear message. Max retaliated with a message of his own. They understood each other even now.

The adrenaline carried Jacob for a while. It was only after it was over and he was washing the soot from his face that it finally crashed down around him. He had to stifle the scream so Evie wouldn't wonder what was the matter. He'd been stabbed, shot at, and beaten, but this pain was far worse than any of them. It burrowed down deep, gutting him and leaving him feeling raw.

The letters on the copper knuckles seemed to mock him now. Jacob tore them off, intending to throw them out the train window. Something stopped him and after a moment he slid them back onto his fingers.

Max still needed him to be the brave one, after all. And he would, no matter how much it hurt.


End file.
